


In the Kitchen

by Transposable_Element



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Archenland, Cultural Differences, Fermented foods, Food, Gen, Kitchens, Poverty, Servants, changed circumstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two vignettes about Cor, Aravis, and the kitchen at Anvard, during their early days in the north.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks after coming to Anvard, Cor goes down to the kitchen to scrounge something to eat.

One morning after lessons Cor decided to go down to the kitchen to see if he could scrounge something to eat. Even though he was eating better now than he ever had in his life, he still felt hungry nearly all the time, as hungry as he had felt when he was half starved. Maybe it was just because he knew he could have as much to eat as he wanted, so there was no reason to try not to think about food. Or maybe it was because he was growing. Everybody said that would happen now that he was getting fed properly. Corin was growing, too, though; he wondered if he would ever catch up with his brother.

When he arrived in the kitchen everybody made a fuss over him. This was a little embarrassing, but he enjoyed it, too. The cook, Mistress Bik, sat him down at a big worktable and all the women and girls in the kitchen started plying him with food. He ate cold chicken, sour pickles, bread and butter, and apple tart with cream. He began to relax. Everybody was making jokes and laughing. Nobody here seemed to mind if he talked with his mouth full. When he licked his fingers, they took it as a compliment, instead of scolding him. They didn’t tell him to sit up straight. And nobody asked how he was doing with his books.

Nobody seemed to have trouble understanding his accent, either. It was funny, since the way he talked wasn't any more like the way the women in the kitchen talked than it was like the way the courtiers talked. He supposed it was just that they didn't mind it that he didn't sound like a gentleman.

Finally he’d had enough to eat, and he thought he was probably in the way, so he thanked Mistress Bik and said he ought to be leaving.

“You come in here any time you’re hungry, young sir,” the cook said, smiling. “You need feeding up!” She poked him in the ribs.

“Thanks. I’m hungry almost all the time, so you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me,” he said.

“Well, that’s just fine. You're a good boy, and we’ll be happy to have you,” she said. 

“Thanks,” he said again. He started to turn and then remembered something he’d been meaning to ask about. “Mistress Bik…I’ve been wondering about something. After meals, there always seems to be a lot of food left on the tables...and I was just wondering—what happens to it?”

The cook, who understood why he was asking, looked at him very seriously. “It’s part of my job to see that nothing’s wasted,” she told him firmly. “Leftover meat goes into soups and pies, or you eat it cold in sandwiches the next day. If there are potatoes and turnips and suchlike, we make hash. Lots of things you can do with leftover potatoes! Bones go for stock, of course. Wine and cider go to make vinegar. Bread, we make into bread pudding, or bread crumbs, or milk toast....Of course, some of the leavings really _are_ unfit for people to eat—that kind of thing we feed to the pigs or the chickens, so they can make it into bacon and eggs for us. And some of it goes into the garden. So you needn’t worry! Everything left on that table gets used somehow or other.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. I was…it just worried me.”

“Well, I understand how you feel. When I was a girl there were times when we didn’t have much food on the table.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, and Cor fought back an impulse to ask Mistress Bik if he could stay down here and work in the kitchen, instead of going back upstairs, where he had to pretend to be a prince.


	2. Yogurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Aravis visits the kitchen, her reception is a bit different.

Mistress Bik was in the cold room turning cheeses when Til the kitchenmaid opened the door.

“That Calormene wench is asking for you,” said Til, in a voice pitched to carry.

Mistress Bik straightened up and turned around to look at the girl. “You’re not to call her that,” she said.

“Oh, and what _am_ I to call her?” asked Til, belligerently.

“You know very well. She’s called the Lady Aravis, and if you’re speaking to her you may call her my lady, or miss. And be respectful.” 

“Why should I be, after what they did to us?”

“She’s King Lune’s guest, and she’s the prince’s friend—that ought to be good enough for you,” the cook said firmly. “And if you don’t mind your manners, I’ll send you back to your father. I’m sure you’re very eager to be herding goats again.”

Til pressed her lips together and attempted to straighten her face. “Yes ma’am,” she said sourly.

“Now go back in there and finish those breakfast dishes,” said the cook.

Mistress Bik wiped her hands on a rag and went into the kitchen. Lady Aravis was standing just inside the door. She must have heard the whole exchange, but she gave no sign of it. She stood straight and still, and her narrow, dark face wore a neutral expression.

Truth be told, the cook didn’t much like Lady Aravis either, but she knew how to be polite. “Good morning, my lady. Is there something you wish to speak to me about?” 

Lady Aravis smiled hesitantly. “Good morning, Mistress Bik,” she said. “I’m sorry to trouble you. I was wondering if anybody here in the kitchen knows how to make yogurt.”

The cook frowned. “Is that a Calormene food?”

“If you haven’t heard of it, I suppose it must be. It’s milk that’s been fermented, I think. It’s thick and sour.” Mistress Bik didn’t like the sound of this, and apparently it showed in her face because Lady Aravis continued, “Maybe it doesn’t sound very good, but it’s wonderful, really. I used to have it every day. I didn’t think about it while we were traveling, but now that I’m settled here, I miss it.” Then, as if worried that she might be giving offense, she continued, “The food here is very good. I’m enjoying it. All sorts of things I’ve never had before—bacon, and, and mushyrooms….”

Mistress Bik suppressed a smile. Mushyrooms!

“I like the bread here as well," the girl continued, "Of course it’s very different from what we have at h—I mean, in Calavar—in Calormen—where I came from….”

For the first time, Mistress Bik felt some sympathy for the girl. She was obviously missing the foods she was used to, and that was something a cook should understand. And she was being polite, which was an improvement. When she first arrived she horrified all the staff by ignoring them as though they were furniture except when she was ordering them around as though they were slaves. It seemed that sometime during the last few weeks she had learned her lesson, and now she was trying to mend her ways. The cook thought for a moment.

“Fermented milk, you say?” 

“I think so.”

“Well, for most fermentation you need a mother, the trouble is where to get it…”

“A mother?”

“Yes, or a starter. When we make sourdough we add the starter in at the beginning, and then later we take some out of the sponge and that’s the new starter.” Lady Aravis looked confused. Probably she didn’t know how to bake bread. “…or, the mother of vinegar is a sort of a scum that forms on the top of the vinegar. You skim it out and put it in your new batch when you set it to ferment. You don’t absolutely have to have it, but if you don’t use it the vinegar may not taste the way you want it to, and it takes a lot longer to make.” 

“Oh. So…it sounds like, to make yogurt, I’d need to have some yogurt already…”

“Yes, exactly!” 

Lady Aravis sighed. “Well, I suppose we can’t do it then. I'm sorry to take up your time with this…”

But Mistress Bik was now starting to be interested in the problem. “If you don’t have a starter you may be able to make one,” she said reflectively. 

Lady Aravis brightened. “Really? But how would I find out how to make it?”

“There are some books on Calormene food up in the castle library. I’ve used them a few times when we had visitors from the south. They might be worth a look.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that, what a good idea! Thank you! I’m on my way to lessons, but I’ll go look as soon as I get a chance.”

"And if you don't find what you need there, you might try going to visit the Hermit. He knows so much lore, and he has a lot of books as well. And he keeps goats, of course, so he knows all about how to handle milk."

"That's a wonderful idea, too. I ought to go visit him anyway. Thank you _so_ much for taking time to talk to me." The girl looked happier than Mistress Bik had ever seen her. The cook reflected that Til certainly wasn’t the only person at Anvard who resented the Calormene girl’s presence here, and she probably wasn’t the only one to say so where Lady Aravis could hear it.

“No trouble at all, miss,” said Mistress Bik. “And when you do find out how to make it, just come down here and tell me about it. We can try it out, see if we can make it come right. That’s what we did once when Queen Lucy was visiting and she was missing her Yorkshire Pudding.”

“That’s very kind of you.” 

“I always like to learn something new,” Mistress Bik said. She smiled at Aravis. _Well_ , she thought, _the young lady can be quite pleasant, if you give her a chance_.

 

 


End file.
